


Standing In The Light of Your Halo

by wastrelwoods



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Faith and Trust and Gay Shit, Guardian Angel AU, M/M, Magical Healing Fingers, Temporary Character Death, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 05:17:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10379346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wastrelwoods/pseuds/wastrelwoods
Summary: "Why, Juno Steel, " he says, still grinning, "If I didn't know your name I wouldn't be a very good guardian angel, now would I?""A what."Juno Steel just wants to find out what happened to his old friend's missing father, even if people like the Kanagawas aren't his usual clientele. But when a handsome stranger with bright eyes and strange ideas keeps turning up just in time to save Juno's life, he might find himself in over his head.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [howlikeagod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/howlikeagod/gifts).



> sarah @howlikeagod/ @eternalgirlscout on tumblr let me rant at her about this fic for weeks and gave me most of the good ideas and the fact that i even wrote it is pretty much her fault so THANKS I HOPE U LOVE IT

"Boss, I don't think you oughta take this job," Rita warns, picking worriedly over her bag of pretzels while Juno takes his hat off the hook by the door. "You know what they say about the Kanagawas."

"That their checks don't usually bounce?" Juno pulls the brim of the hat low over his eyes, and sighs. "They say a lot of things about the Kanagawas, Rita. Some of them might even be true."

His secretary makes an indignant noise through a mouthful of crumbs, and shakes her head. "And what about all the rumors I've been hearing about this mask? People are saying they've got a curse. Ghosts and monsters and all that spooky kind of stuff, Mistah Steel, and I don't want you getting in trouble with no ghosts, boss, I don't care how much they're paying you--"

"There's no such thing as ghosts, Rita." He shrugs his arms into the sleeves of his trenchcoat, and buckles it at the waist. It's just a missing persons case, and he knows in his bones a man like Croesus Kanagawa is going to have a hard time staying hidden. Worst case scenario, his corpse is waiting in a back room somewhere for the writers to script him a fitting finale. Sorry, did he say worst case? He definitely meant best case. "And I hope you don't mean that last part, because this job is supposed to be your Christmas bonus. I'll call you if I need anything. Don't wait up."

"Mistah _Steel_ \--" she repeats, at a slightly higher decibel, but Juno's already got one foot over the threshold and the door slides shut behind him.

 

  
As it turns out he's right about the ghosts. Rita probably wouldn't consider it a lucky break for Juno, anyway, because whatever the hell this is? It's definitely spooky. He starts digging for the loose thread in the lining of his sleeve, but his head is pounding and the way Cecil's stupid death-trap chair has him shackled in it's hard to turn his wrists the right way. One of his eyes is swollen almost shut. Apparently he'd hit the floor a little harder than he'd realized back in the hallway.

He has to keep believing that, or he'll start to get really, really uncomfortable with the tricks his remaining eye is playing on him. Cecil's podium is too far away for Juno to get a really good look at his face, but blown up a thousand times bigger on the screens around the room it looks…distorted. Wrong. Inhuman?

Juno wishes he hadn't thought that. He screws his eyes shut and tries to drown out the incessant whir-click-click of the Cameramen, and calls, loud enough to let his voice carry across the distance, "Is this any way to repay me for saving your life, Cecil?"

He can hear the mobster starlet's tinkling laughter loud and clear. "Oh, don't worry, Junebug, I'll be sure to pull you out with most of your limbs still intact," he promises, flashing a blinding smile that's too wide for his face. Juno finally snags a nail against the right thread, and tugs open the hidden pocket in one smooth motion. If he can angle the plasma cutter just right….

"What's that you've got in your hand?" Cecil says, and Juno could swear his mike was turned off but his voice still booms. There's a low, cold undercurrent to it he doesn't think he's ever heard before. Gritting his teeth, he clicks the beam on, sacrificing subterfuge for speed. "Play fair, Junebug," Cecil chides, and almost immediately something _weird_ happens. The plasma cutter goes flying out of his hand, clattering into the spinning blades below. The beam scorches his finger on the way down, too, but Juno's too busy watching his last hope tumble into darkness to care.

It felt like a tug, like someone had pulled on a string attached to the other end of the box cutter in his hand. It shouldn't have happened. "What the hell?" he mutters to himself.

The metal cuff has been weakened but not broken, and the nearest blade is only a few inches from the bottom of the chair. Juno tugs as hard as he can, freaked out and pissed off, but the damn thing won't give. He's going to die here.

He's going to _die_.

Cecil laughs again, but it sounds distant, like an oncoming train. "Say hi to Daddy for me, won't you?" he calls, and Juno could swear his eyes are glowing red. They're cybernetic, sure, but that shouldn't _happen_. There's something big here, something really wrong, and the worst part is he's going to die before he gets to the bottom of it.

The cameras are clicking faster now. Juno ought to give them a little good television, but his head won't stop throbbing, and no matter how hard he tugs--

"Stay still," a voice whispers, somewhere behind him, but even when Juno cranes his head he can't find the source. He hears the buzz of a plasma blade and freezes. It's close enough to singe the hairs on the back of his hand, but in an instant the cuff is broken, and he has a hand free to dig his blaster out of its holster. One good shot, that's all he needs.

He turns the barrel up toward the high, vaulted ceiling, aims, and fires. A lighting fixture falls away from the pipe it's clamped to, and when it lands the whirring blades are jammed up with a flash of sparks, and the whole mechanism grinds to a halt. Juno slumps back into the chair, breathing heavily, and starts working to pry loose his other hand while the Cameramen crawl over each other, vying for the best shot. The stream has probably cut away from Cecil's face by now, which is a pity. Juno wishes he could see it.

The hands that close over his to pry open the cuff and set him loose are slender, long fingers encased in a pair of thin black leather gloves. Juno blinks, and lets his gaze slide up to find a slender, cherubic face, with the brightest eyes he's ever seen staring straight into his. His expression is curious, and just a little bit predatory, and so intense that Juno can't look away. His jaw goes slack. "Who--?"

"This may not be the best time for questions, Detective," he says briskly, as the metal finally gives way. Juno nods shakily, pulling his arm free and taking the offered hand to clamber to his feet. Around the podium, the Cameramen are whipping themselves into a frenzy. Cecil is nowhere to be seen. "In fact I think you should probably consider running."

One of the Cameramen swipes a powerful feline arm that comes a little too close to catching Juno's foot with its hooked claws. "Good idea," he decides, grabbing the miraculously appearing stranger and booking it for the door. The man follows him with a surprised grunt.

They make it a few meters before one of the Cameramen rears back and swipes at the stranger. Juno tugs him out of the way and lets off a volley of laser blasts. The damned thing can take a lot of hits before it goes down, which is bad news for Juno. Plus, there are at least three more climbing over it in an instant.

"Juno, look out!" His miraculous savior pulls him back by the collar of his coat as a flash of what looks like _fire_ flies out of the darkness, narrowly missing his head. Juno stumbles back into the man's chest, staring wide-eyed at the skid mark the thing leaves in the floor. The door slides open behind them, and the stranger pulls Juno through it in an instant.

Juno leans against the wall heavily as the stranger does something to the lock that makes the door hiss and shudder, but remain firmly shut as the Cameramen begin to pound on it from the other side. He stares, trying to divert his attention from how tall and lean and good-looking the man is to the dark blue uniform he's wearing, the gold stud that's shining in his ear, the faint glow that surrounds him, unless that last is Juno's imagination getting away from him.

"Like what you see, do you?" The stranger shoots him a knowing smile over his shoulder, revealing the most unnervingly sharp set of canines Juno has ever laid eyes on.

"Who _are_ you?" he asks at last, straightening up and walking over to the stranger, who regards him with a warm nonchalance. "How did you get in here? And how the hell did you know my name?"

"Why, Juno Steel, " he says, still grinning, "If I didn't know your name I wouldn't be a very good guardian angel, now would I?"

"A _what_."

The stranger raises one eyebrow, stepping into Juno's space and gesturing expansively with his gloved hands. "Come, Detective, even you must have heard of a guardian angel before."

"That's a pretty good joke, I'll admit, but I don't do fairy tales," Juno dismisses, raising his blaster and stepping back. "You saved my ass back there, so I won't shoot you, but I'm not gonna ask again. Who are you?"

"Cynicism doesn't suit you, Juno--"

"Answers, now."

"Alright! I tell a lie, it really does suit you. Are you happy now?" The stranger drawls, one hand reaching for Juno's lapel. Juno doesn't mean to pull the trigger, really, but he's overwhelmed, and besides the blaster is only set to stun.

The bolt hits him square in the chest. At this range, it should send him flying backwards, or at the very least staggering. All it seems to do is offend him. The charge dissipates, crackling over his lapels for a moment and sending up a faint wisp of smoke. The stranger stops in his tracks and folds his arms, looking at Juno askance. "Really, now. There's no need to be rude."

 

  
"Would you stop _following_ me, at least?" Juno knows these streets better than anyone, but the stranger's legs are longer, and he's very persistent. He can't seem to shake him.

"I told you, Juno, it's my job to--"

"Protect me. Yeah, so you keep telling me." He stops and steps into the road to hail a cab, and hears the stranger pull up short behind him. Juno won't look back, though. He'll just flash that shiny, vulpine smile again. One of the cars finally takes pity and screeches to a halt, though the driver eyes Juno's split lip with suspicion and distaste, and discreetly ups his rate by a couple of creds. Juno rolls his eyes as he slides into the backseat. "Protect me from what?"

The stranger sidles in beside him, raising an eyebrow. "I had thought that would be rather obvious, Detective. You saw what happened to the Kanagawas."

That's enough to make Juno turn his head. The stranger is flipping absentmindedly through the inner pocket of his uniform, but there's something really smug about the half-smile pasted over his lean face. "You seem to know more about it than I do," he prompts, slowly.

Whatever he's looking for, he must find it, because the stranger makes a small, triumphant noise before he turns his attention back to Juno. "I suppose you're right about that. For example, I know precisely where to find Croesus Kanagawa."

"You do?" Juno barks. "Where is he?"

"He's dead," the stranger chimes, eyes sparkling with amusement. "Dragged into the pits of hell, I'm afraid."

That's all more or less in line with what Juno had assumed. He sighs and settles back in his seat, trying to ignore the little knot in his chest. The man was an asshole, after all. Wrote the book. Sooner or later that was gonna come back to bite him.

It's just…weird, is all. People like Croesus acted like they were too good for death, and after a while you forgot that they could still bite the dust no matter how filthy rich they were. "Dig a big hole and bury yourself in it," Juno mutters to himself.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," Juno dismisses. "So who got to him? Triad? Or someone in the family?"

"Oh, an old family friend. Demon."

Juno narrows his eyes. "You've got to be kidding me."

His eyes are still sparkling with amusement, but the stranger shakes his head. "It's true. Of course, the Kanagawas have been making contracts with the dark forces of hell for generations, but it wasn't until Grimpotheuthis that they really got in over their heads. Forfeiting one's own immortal soul for ratings, can you imagine--"

"I don't have to listen to this," Juno interrupts, his pounding headache suddenly resurging with a vengeance. "I gotta admit, Cupid, you've got a really broad imagination, but do me a favor and save the mumbo-jumbo about divine intervention for the streams, and stop trying to tell me that some Old Earth folk story about little men with pitchforks is responsible for my missing persons case. I have a paycheck to collect, here."

"Raziel," the stranger chimes in, and Juno stops.

"Raz--what?"

"That's my name, Detective," he says, with an expression of polite nonchalance. "Raziel. Although I applaud your creativity. Cupid. I'll keep it in mind."

"Is this some kind of a joke to you?"

"Not at all, Juno," the stranger… _Raziel_ says soothingly, unfolding one of his gloved hands to reveal a crisp business card, which he offers calmly. Juno takes it like it might explode, and he turns to the driver. "Here, please." The cab slows to a halt while Juno is still trying to decipher the flamboyant gold text printed over the cardstock. "I'm only trying to do my job, same as you. If you'd prefer I keep my distance, I can certainly agree to try. Just stay out of trouble, won't you?"

"Hang on, what language is this even in?" Juno complains, as he clicks open the door and moves to stand. "I can't read this!"

Raziel turns that fox's smile on him again. "I know," he drawls, then blows Juno a kiss and lets the door slide shut behind him. "Ta-ta." Juno cranes his neck to watch where he goes, but between one second and the next he steps into a shadow and disappears.

 

  
It's not that Juno doesn't believe in anything, per se. It's just he's been around for too long to put much stock in stories. God knows he's wasted time on fantasies about the way the world should work--every second he's ever spent at Valles Vicki's, for example. But deep down, he knows it’s not real. The world--the real world--doesn't play by anyone's rules, and it sure as hell doesn't care about justice.

Take angels. They're a pretty story, sure. Paragons of virtue and good and heavenly power, hidden in plain sight, shielding the deserving from the worst of the world.

Well, maybe it's because he's never been deserving of anything in his life, but if there was such a thing as a paragon of virtue and good out there Juno's never been lucky enough to shake hands with it.

And demons, well. Humanity doesn't need any kind of infernal power to do evil. They manage just fine all on their own.

Rita, on the other hand, is delighted. "Mistah Steel, I ain't seen nothing like this since _Wind Beneath My Wings_ , and that was years ago, before the actor--whatshername, the one who played Liza in _Liza and Ken_ , you know--died in that freak shuttle crash. Real life guardian _angels_ \--and I bet he was real tall and handsome, too, wasn't he. Was he?"

"He was something, all right," Juno grunts, pushing the business card towards her more firmly. "Come on, dig deep. You must have seen something like this before, Rita, think about it."

"Well, it ain't Ancient Martian, if you're worried about that mask--" She turns the paper over and over in her hands, squinting at it. "Ooh, maybe it's some kind of secret code! Do you think angels use secret codes, boss? I bet--"

"Just…keep working on it, okay?"

He gets as far as to slump into his chair, pull the bottle out of the bottom drawer and pour a generous drink for himself before exhaustion catches up with him and he groans, head dropping into his hands. HCPD is officially pronouncing Croesus dead in a few hours, and when Cassie calls asking for more he's got nothing to give her. Not even a body, as little as that helps. Not even a name. Just a ghost story.

There's still a faint, subtle scent lingering in the air, which he recognizes as Raziel's cologne, traces left on the collar of his shirt and the business card he'd handed over to Rita. Hard to decide if it’s the kind of cologne an angel would wear, but Juno can already tell it’s gonna take a long time to get the smell out of his nose. Maybe longer to get it out of his head.

Waste of goddamn time.

 

  
He doesn't expect to see this guardian angel of his ever again. After a day or so it’s clear even Rita's got nothing to go on. So he puts the whole thing out of his mind, and refocuses on finding something for Cassie, even if it is just closure.

Problem is, he makes it a point of pride not to rub elbows with the kind of people who had the most reason to kill Croesus Kanagawa. For one thing, most of them live in those floating mansions over uptown. Stream stars. They're all beautiful, filthy rich, and completely amoral. The Hyperion City crème de la crème, in other words.

When Cassie told him she was getting him a ticket into the after-party of the year's biggest award show, naturally Juno assumed he'd be going undercover with the press. He's got the street-fighting experience for it. So when she drags him back to the mansion for a round of tux fittings and a meeting with her team of stylists, he's a little wrong-footed. "Your plus one?" he says, in a strained voice, as a man with a button camera circles him with a tape measure and pokes pins into places past the bounds of decency.

"Don't sweat it, Juno, you're not my type," Cassie says, flashing her steel-capped teeth in a lazy grin. "Most of Dad's business contacts won't talk to anyone with a microphone, and besides, you catch more flies with honey."

"Cassandra, if one person in that room recognizes me, nobody will talk to me anyway," he says. "I'm a Private Eye, I'm not exactly on their nice lists. If anything I'm probably on their hit lists."

Cassie just laughs and ruffles his hair. "Relax. When my team gets done with you your own mother wouldn't recognize you." Juno scowls, and she punches his arm. While he's still wincing, she turns to the man with the button camera. "Put him in the red velvet one. And do something about the hair, will you?"

Unrecognizable. He's got to admit, even he didn't know he cleaned up this…good. The jacket costs more than his car and his apartment combined, and the mess of curls the stylists twisted his hair into is something he can definitively say he will never have the energy to attempt on his own. And truth be told, he's a little uncomfortable with how well the suit fits.

When he steps into the ballroom beside Cassandra--a vision in studded leather--he's relieved to see that he blends right in with the beautiful, false faces that populate the room. He drifts behind her for a while, trying for the occasional strained smile as his gaze drifts longingly in the direction of the open bar. "Who am I looking for?" he says, out of the corner of his mouth.

Cassie finishes playing nice with a late-night host and rolls her eyes at him. "Doesn't matter. You're standing next to me, Juno. They'll come to you."

"That’s…comforting," he tries, not feeling comforted in the least. The ballroom is star-studded, sure, but behind those stars Juno can see reporters elbowing their way to a decent-paying headline, waiters trying to look invisible with trays of canapés--probably canapés, anyway, Juno only knows them by reputation. And bodyguards. Lots of them. They took Juno's comms at the door, and he didn't even bother trying to sneak in his blaster, but these guys? Armed to the teeth. Literally, in some cases.

"Scaredy-cat," she ribs, shoving him in the direction of the bar. "Grab a drink already, you're making me tense just looking at you." Her color contacts flash an unnerving blood-red when she grins.

Juno picks his way through the crowd with relatively little incident, though he can feel eyes lingering on him. Once he's got a drink in his hand, though, he feels calmer. "Juno? Juno, darling, I didn't recognize you, you look astonishing!" A charming, crystal-clear voice sounds in his ear, and Juno whirls around to find himself face to face with Martian royalty.

"Julian," he stammers, in a slight panic. That voice has a way of carrying across a room. "Fancy, uh, seeing you here."

The Prince of Mars beams, leaning in to plant a kiss on each of his cheeks. Apparently he's been at the open bar already. Julian gets touchy when he's tipsy. "I can't believe it's really you, Juno, you must tell me what you've been up to."

"Julian, I'm undercover," Juno hisses, trying to pull away.

"Really? How exciting! Tell me more--"

"Juno? Juno Steel?" someone echoes, behind him, and then it's too late. Juno groans, and unhooks his arm from Julian's, reaching back across the bar for his drink. So much for incognito.

"Are you alright, Juno?" Julian starts, but before he can answer a black-gloved hand closes over his wrist.

"Don't drink that, Detective," another familiar voice warns, from over Juno's right shoulder.

It's a very close thing, but he manages not to drop the glass then and there. Raziel steps into his line of sight, wearing a slinky blue gown with a plunging neckline, the same gold stud shining in his ear. Juno stares. "You--"

His other hand comes around to pluck the glass daintily from Juno's grip, eyeing the liquor with distaste before reaching to empty it into the nearest artificial houseplant. "I thought I told you to stay out of trouble," he sighs.

"I thought I was," Juno tells him, sulkily.

"Juno, who _is_ that man?" Julian stage-whispers, from his other side. He doesn't sound quite scandalized. More…excited, which is probably worse. Juno ignores him.

"What was wrong with my drink?" he demands.

"Nothing whatsoever…if you're partial to the taste of cyanide." Raziel's leaning in too close, again, lithe and distracting so it takes Juno a moment to register what he's said. His blood runs cold.

"What, seriously?" He snatches the glass back, turning it over to look for signs of tampering. Predictably, of course, there's no trace. Just the word of a man who's saved his life once before. Whoever the hell he is really, there's no denying his suspiciously good timing. "How did you--"

"I'm quite good at my job," he interjects, before reaching in front of Juno to shake Julian's hand. "Your Highness," he greets.

There's no force in the galaxy that sways Julian DiMaggio faster than flattery. Raziel's a lucky man, to pick up on that so quickly. His old client-cum-friend beams, the glittery powder brushed over his cheeks and eyes catching the light like a chandelier. "Oh, Juno, how do you meet these people? So _polite_."

Juno sighs. He can feel a headache coming on. "Julian, this is Raziel. He's my…." He hesitates, looking him over from head to toe before giving in and starting over. "We're working on a case together. Raz, this is the Prince of Mars, but you probably already knew that. Think I can grab another martini without getting poisoned?"

Raziel stops looking smug long enough to purse his lips and hum inquisitively. "That would depend upon your friend Miss Kanagawa," he offers. "I wouldn't risk it, though, she seems frightfully determined to see you dead."

The pronouncement hits Juno like a train to the chest, and it's only sheer bewilderment that keeps him from whirling around to search the room. "Cass?" His voice is bright and disbelieving, as he watches Raziel’s face for a trace of humor. Because it has to be a joke, doesn't it? Not a very funny one, but still. "She wouldn't," he argues, but he can't make himself believe it.

As much as he hates to see Raziel look smug, the pity in his eyes is worse. "I'm sorry, Juno," he says softly. "If it's any consolation, she may not be quite in control."

There's a distant ringing in Juno's ears. He flounders for a moment, trying to put his disrupted thoughts back in some kind of order, then stands and snakes an arm around Raziel's waist. "Sorry, Julian, but me and Raziel are going to have a discussion now."

The crowd doesn't part for them, exactly, because these are the kind of people who look down their nose at the orbit of planets until they agree to spin the other way for a while. People see Juno coming, stepping a little too quickly with a false smile pasted on his face, and decide to be somewhere else for the moment. He doesn't trust himself to look at Cassandra just now, so when they spot her and her assistants by the door, talking with some minor stream stars about guest appearances, he turns on his heel and pulls Raziel out onto the balcony, instead. He stays in Juno's space, crowding him against the glass doors so that the pair of them will look like they've been caught mid-tryst to anyone who tries to follow. Or maybe he just likes toying with Juno.

At least it's something to focus on besides how low the Hyperion City skyline looks from up here. Mars' moons are high in the sky, but Juno feels like with one good leap he could reach out and touch them. The height makes his head spin.

"Was there something you wanted to ask me, Detective?" Raziel asks, his gloved fingers pulling at Juno's tie. "Or were you just looking to get me alone?"

Maybe it's not just the height. "You, uh," Juno stammers, then forces himself to focus. "I wanna know what you know about the Kanagawas."

"I keep trying to explain it to you, Juno, but you won't listen," he chides, flashing those sharp, sharp teeth. "And besides, as your guardian angel it is in my best interest to keep you safe. That means keeping you as far from this business as I possibly can."

He removes Raziel's hands from his collar with a little more force than necessary. "There you go again, feeding me this angel bullshit--"

"And what's so wrong with believing in angels?" He keeps his hands to himself, but he doesn't back off one inch, bright eyes boring into Juno's. "There's a whole universe out there, Detective, all filled with forces greater than you or I could imagine. Good, evil. Love. The indomitable ingenuity of the human spirit. Have a little imagination, Juno!"

It's a hell of a pretty speech. Juno can tell he really believes it, too. He wishes he could say the same. "Think I'll stick to facts, if it's all the same to you," he refutes, dropping his eyes to the marble-tiled floor. "If you're not gonna help me, do me a favor and stay out of my way, okay?"

Walking away from him back into the crowded ballroom doesn't feel good, but Juno's given up on good. It's about time he found a murderer.

 

  
If he gets the chance to look back on this moment, Juno's sure he'll think it's pretty ironic. Maybe even get in a good chuckle about it. Because finding a murderer is turning out to be laughably easy. 

Step one, wander around the party aimlessly for a couple more hours, too on edge to down a single drink, listening to the rumors fly. Realize he already knows enough to get into a little trouble, so why waste any more time? Step two, interrupt a perfectly peaceful shuttle ride home to ask Cassandra Kanagawa why she bothered to hire a private eye to investigate a crime she'd committed, and get a bloody nose and an unceremonious introduction to the business end of a Neo-Derringer Personal Artillery for his trouble.

Yeah, finding the murderer isn't the problem.

Cassie has her second cousins pull over and let them out on a convenient rooftop, which is pretty in keeping with the Kanagawa flair for drama. Then they pull away, with orders to come back in a quarter of an hour, and leave Juno alone with his old friend the murderer, his new friend the NDPA, and the cold light of the Hyperion skyline.

Trusting this family was always going to be the death of Juno. He's known that for years. But he's just such a goddamn bleeding heart where they're involved. He pretends he's above all that cheesy stream shit, buying into the personas that people like Cassie are paid to concoct, but in the end he's just another audience, isn't he? No, worse than that, he's a pawn. Bought and sold.

"I don't like this, okay?" she explains, still leveling a weapon at his face that could make his face disappear with a single shot. "But I got a contract to fulfill."

"Got some questions about that, actually. Your contracts. I've heard some real interesting rumors about the kind of people you've been dealing with," he blusters, retreating until the back of his heel finds empty space. It's a really good thing he's facing away from the drop. "You and Cecil and Croesus. People are saying…" Ah, hell, he's got nothing to lose either way. Juno takes a breath. "Saying the Kanagawas are making deals with demons now."

She laughs, but it doesn't reach her eyes. Red eyes. "What's your source, the gossip column? People have been saying shit like that for years, Juno. I thought you were smart enough to recognize a conspiracy theory when you see one."

Right on the edge of the rooftop, Juno's footing is a little uncertain; he wobbles for a terrifying second before he can manage to right himself. "I thought so too," he says, "But you gotta admit, something doesn't add up, the way you all turned things around so fast, after your Dad found the tomb. Plus, it's a little silly killing me to keep me quiet if I'm not on the right track, here."

Cassie grins her steel shark smile. "Aw, Juno, I don't think even killing you will keep you quiet for long," she says, something like pride in her voice, before she swings the NDPA down and fires at Juno's feet.

Juno yelps, and steps back into thin air.

It's a little bit like every nightmare he's ever had in blood-pounding high definition, only it happens much faster. He can feel the air rushing against his back, trying in vain to buoy him up as the rooftop falls away. The headlights of a car rush by, only an instant away from stopping his fall ahead of schedule, as Juno plunges faster and faster--

\--and stops.

It takes him a second to catch up and stop screaming as the direction of his movement abruptly changes. He can't put together why the moons are getting closer again until he registers the arms wrapped around his middle, straining to hold him up. There's a heavy, windy noise, like some kind of engine Juno's never heard before, propelling them up, and a second later he catches a whiff of a familiar cologne.

It takes a concentrated effort to keep still with the adrenaline racing through every nerve in his body, and the sudden, pressing need to turn and see the face of his rescuer. Juno's got the stocky, dense build of a brawler. He's not an easy gal to lift. And he can feel himself starting to slip already.

It's less of a landing and more of a collision that stops their flight, as Juno and his rescuer roll over the concrete still locked together and end up in an ungainly sprawl near the bottom pylons of a water tower. Juno heaves himself off of the other as soon as he can manage it, on all fours, so dizzy he has to screw his eyes shut to keep from throwing up. He can taste blood at the back of his mouth, probably bit his tongue. His throat feels raw, and his voice comes out shaky. "We really gotta stop meeting like this, Raz."

Then he looks back at Raziel for the first time, and the words dry up in his mouth.

He's picking himself up right alongside Juno, weight resting on his hands and knees, but protruding from his back are a pair of enormous, jet-black wings, practically as long as he is tall. The feathers…hell if he knows what to call them, the long ones right at the ends…they're trembling gently in the sim-wind, and the way the neon lights of the city catch them from above and below illuminate hundreds of tiny white pinpricks in the black, like little stars. He's got wings like a goddamn galaxy.

It's fucking breathtaking. Juno can't look away, until Raziel lifts his head up to look right at Juno and his whole face is glowing, like he swallowed a star, like he's got another galaxy growing under his skin, and it's so beautiful it hurts to look at, so Juno doesn't. He looks down at his hands instead, scraped to hell from the landing, palms stinging and bloody. He tries to catch a full breath, but it feels like someone's wrapped a steel beam around his ribcage and pulled it tight. His cheeks are wet.

Raziel's there in an instant, brow furrowed in concern, his ungloved hands on Juno's face, burning where they touch his skin, bright eyes staring right into his. "Juno? Juno, what is it, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"…no?" he manages, with some effort, his heart twinging in his chest. "I mean, I don't think so--"

One of Raziel's hands shifts to his sternum, prodding at his chest, and through his ruined jacket Juno can feel a wave of heat and then a sudden tingling numbness in place of the ache he knew meant at least one broken rib. He reaches for the angel's hand as he pulls it away, winding his fingers with Raziel's just to feel that burning, searing feeling against his skin again. Raziel looks down in surprise as Juno's scraped palm knits itself back together before their eyes. "Oh, yes," he says mildly, "That."

Juno takes one more look at his painfully bright face and kisses him. He can't help it. It's like all the gravity in the known universe is pulling him towards Raziel, and he's too weak to fight the flow of all that force. And Raziel doesn't hesitate to kiss him back, biting at his lips, twisting fingers in Juno's hair, sighing contentedly against his skin. Every touch burns a little bit, almost unbearable but not as unbearable as it would be to pull away.

Even when he has to break the contact, gasping for air, Raziel is still there, resting his forehead against Juno's, pressing his lips to the corner of Juno's mouth, his cheek, his temple, murmuring his name with a reverence that makes Juno's chest swell and ache. 

"You, uh…" He gestures vaguely with one hand to encompass all of Raziel, head to toe to wingtip, and inhales. "You're the real deal, huh?"

He feels the angel's answering smile against his skin. "I did try to tell you, Juno," he points out, with just a hint of the familiar smugness. Funnily enough, it doesn't bother Juno so much now.

 

  
"So, the, uh…" Juno clears his throat. "The kissing thing. You're allowed to do that?" He's a little bit generous with his pour, but after two attempts on his life in one night, he thinks he deserves a stiff drink. Plus, Raziel doesn't hesitate to pluck the glass from his hand and steal the first sip, so it all evens out.

He looks human again, albeit with that same uncanny aura that he'd had before. One moment of concentration and those huge wings just…blinked back to wherever he put them when they weren't jutting out from his back. Took a while longer for the light in his face to dim, practically half the walk back to Juno's apartment. And he's still not wearing gloves, presumably because he can't get enough of the way Juno shivers when he brushes his fingers down the side of his neck. He makes a soft hum as he considers the question. "It's not…encouraged. Perhaps a bit of a taboo," the angel admits. "Most angels don't go in for romance at all," he continues, pressing soft kisses to the spot under Juno's left ear. "Or _sex_." Juno almost drops the glass, and Raziel chuckles. "But there's no law against it, no."

Juno tosses back the rest of his gin quickly, and turns to pin Raziel against his countertop, the smooth fabric of his dress gathering between his fingers at the angel's waist. "But you're not most angels?" he guesses, lips hovering over his exposed collarbone. "Lucky me."

Raziel groans in reply, throwing his head back and wrapping one of his legs around Juno's to pull him closer. It's about as good an invitation as any.

Later, lying in his narrow bed with Raziel's chest pressed up against his back, a niggling question will finally make its way to the forefront of Juno's brain. Because people like him don't just get guardian angels. If there was a power out there that cared to bring divine intervention into Juno Steel's life, they missed the boat thirty years ago. So why now? He shifts closer, letting Raziel's arm drape over his waist, and tries to parse out exactly what he's missing, but he falls asleep before he makes any real progress.

 

  
By the time he resurfaces, it's almost noon, and his comms is beeping at him from the bedside table. Blearily, he reaches out a hand to silence the damn thing, but he must hit the wrong button, because the next thing he hears is a squealed, "Mistah _Steel_ \--"

He scrambles to switch off the video function, still fuzzy with sleep, mumbling, "Damn it, Rita," under his breath as he works.

"--don't _believe_ you! You never called last night, and I was sure you were gonna get in some kinda trouble and you better believe I'm not gonna let you die before you've paid me that Christmas bonus you promised me."

Juno rolls away and makes to sit up, hears Raziel shift awake behind him. "I don't remember promising," he argues, but she cuts him off with a burst of unwelcome news.

"And now everyone's saying you're dead, boss, it's all over the streams. The Kanagawa twins put out a real touching tribute, if I didn't know you I'm sure I'd have bawled my eyes out."

Narrowing his eyes and wrapping a sheet around his waist, Juno scoffs. "I'm sure it was heartbreaking. If you don't mind my asking, Rita, how did you know I wasn't dead?"

"Oh, I checked the security feed to your building last night, made sure you got home safe. That was a real nice suit you had on, Mistah Steel, if you don't mind my saying so. Reminded me of the one I wore to my junior prom. Ricky Cho took me, cutest guy in my class. Had a real nice evening until he threw up on my shoes. Poor kiddo." Juno groans, then he sighs, then he lets Rita's voice play out in the background as he paces the room, going over the case in his head. Pieces don't fit together yet. He's got half a mundane domestic murder and half a supernatural horror flick to go on. Only guarantee is whatever the truth is, the Kanagawas don't want him to find it. Which means one of them is probably behind it.

The nice thing is being dead makes it pretty easy to fly under the radar. The Kanagawas might be theatrical, but they probably aren't expecting him to do a little haunting. "Rita," he interrupts, "Think you can find me a way to get into the Kanagawa mansion undetected?"

Her story cuts off mid-sentence, followed by a considerate silence, then a whiny hum. "Sure, boss, but I don't think--"

"My, you really are a glutton for punishment, Detective, aren't you?" Raziel chimes in, wrapping his arms around Juno's waist from behind. His sharp chin cuts into the crook of Juno's neck. "Rushing bravely into the belly of the beast. I'd give you five minutes." The sharp smell of his cologne tickles Juno's nose, as though it hasn't already sunk into every pore of his skin.

He bites down on a frankly embarrassing noise for Rita's sake when Raziel nibbles at his earlobe, and huffs impatiently into the comms. "Wasn't planning on going in _alone_ ," he says pointedly. "Make that a route for two, Rita."

Raziel's wandering hands go still as Rita inhales sharply. "Mistah _Steel_ , who is that?" It's the same tone of indignant glee she took when Juno treated her to dinner at Vicky's for her birthday last year. "Don't tell me you found that guardian angel of yours again! Ooh, this is better than the last four seasons of _Bachelor in Betelgeuse_ combined!"

"Alright," Juno sighs, "I won't tell you."

"Ooh, boss, I can't believe you've been holding out on me! Can he hear me? Hellooooo, Mistah Angel!" Juno can tell that if the video were still on, Rita would be waggling her fingers in a suggestive wave. He shakes his head faintly. "Oh! That reminds me, boss, you know that note you were asking me to translate, that one you won't take out of your coat pocket no matter where you go?"

Juno flushes, putting one hand over the speaker, but it's too late. He can hear Raziel's laughter rumble against the back of his neck. "What about it," he grunts.

"Well, it turns out it ain't a secret code after all," Rita explains. "Just a dead language. Real ancient stuff, predates sliced bread by about a thousand years. It's called T'ien, they used to use it on some small worlds in the Centauri system."

"Well, what does it say?"

"No idea, boss! Last speakers musta died out centuries ago," she says brightly. "I'll start working on that route ya asked for right now!"

"Rita, wait!" he warns, "One more thing. Don't tell anyone else I'm alive, okay? The Kanagawas can't see me coming."

"Sure thing, Mistah Steel!" she agrees, and the line goes dead. Juno tosses the comms on the bed, and turns to press his mouth to Raziel's with a strangled groan. Raziel chuckles and slides his hands down Juno's back. The sheet drops to the floor.

 

  
They're tangled up again in the middle of the bed, after, sweat drying tacky on Juno's skin, Raziel still absentmindedly brushing his fingers over Juno's ribs. It's nice. It's like nothing else. It's hard to draw his focus back to center, to remember that there's still a job to do, and more than a few questions that need answering. It might feel like he could spend the rest of his life lying here, but sooner or later real life is going to burst through that door. Juno's got to be ready for it.

"So what does it say?" he asks, with his head still pillowed in the crook of Raziel's shoulder. "Your little calling card."

The angel shifts underneath him, and pulls the card from Juno's grasp to turn it over in his hand. The gold ink catches the light at half a dozen different angles. "It's like an ID badge," he explains, "There's my name, down the left side. And here, next to it, my titles. Angel of Mysteries," he announces. "And here, Ruling Prince of the Second Heaven, but that's more of an honorific than anything," he says, with perfectly false modesty.

Juno rolls from his side to his front, resting his weight on one elbow. "Prince, huh? Aren't you a little out of my league?" He trails his fingers down the side of Raziel's face.

The angel catches his hand with his own and presses it to his lips, staring at Juno from under his lashes. "Not at all, Juno," he reassures. "You're named after the goddess, aren't you? The Queen of heaven, in fact. Perfectly suited to a prince, I should think."

Juno feels his smile turn brittle, and exhales softly through his nose. "That's real sweet, Raziel," he offers, sitting up. "But you don't have to pretend. I know you're not really here for me."

He moves to sit up slowly, head tilted to one side. Moving hesitantly, like a man caught in a lie, but his voice is steady as ever. "Well." Raziel hums. "In a manner of speaking--"

"Don't bullshit me."

"No, I suppose you're right." He holds the card up to the light again. "In a broad sense, I'm here for all of Mars. Every one of her citizens. Millions of souls." It's probably intentional that his ever-present faint halo flashes brighter for a second, illuminating his gold earring and making his eyes shine with the light of distant stars. "However, Juno, you happen to be one of those millions. And I've taken a bit of a shine to you, you see. I'm your guardian angel simply because I want to be."

"That’s--" His tongue catches up with his ears and tangles in his mouth. "Uh. Still technically a lie."

"I prefer to think of it as a creative application of language," Raziel says dismissively.

Juno shifts. "Well, if you're here to watch over all of Mars, you're wasting your time. Couldn't straighten this planet out if you brought a full army of angels, unless you gave every one of them a laser and perfect aim."

Raziel's face sours for a moment. "I have no intention of doing any such thing," he says, a dark cadence to his voice Juno has never heard before. In a moment, though, it's vanished, replaced with his usual bright lilt. "I'm afraid my goals are rather more short-term. I'm merely here to prevent your planet's destruction, Juno, not to save it from itself."

"You're here to put the Kanagawas in line," Juno guesses.

"They unleashed a powerful force when they found Grimpotheuthis," he explains. "His spirit is bound to the mask, but he'll stop at nothing to get free, and when he does he's bound to be a little resentful. He's been trapped for millennia, you see. He'll exact his revenge on any living thing within reach. Your entire planet, to start with."

A cold shiver runs down Juno's spine at the casual way Raziel says it, like everything Juno has ever known could go up in smoke and it would be a bit of a disappointment. "Well, how do we stop him?"

"You do no such thing," Raziel corrects. "Can't be done, I'm afraid. There's only one force powerful enough to contain a demon like Grimpotheuthis, and the higher-ups tend to be awfully stingy about putting them to use." He reaches up and unclasps the gold stud from his ear, which changes shape in his hand until he's holding a palm-sized glowing orb, with mysterious shadows dancing below its crystalline surface. "This thing of beauty," he purrs, "Is called a miracle."

Just looking at the damn thing makes lights burst behind Juno's eyes. He feels his jaw go slack, hears a faint ringing in his ears, reaches for it without even thinking. Raziel's hand darts out to grip his wrist, vicelike, stopping him in his tracks. "Don't _touch it_ ," he hisses, eyes wild.

"What? Why?" Juno glowers, pulling away.

Raziel stares at him a moment longer, then sighs and clips the miracle back into place. "If you're were very lucky, contact with a miracle would only kill you. But it might do much worse," he warns. "Defense mechanism. They're an incredibly finite resource, I'm afraid."

Ears still ringing faintly, Juno sits back and heaves a sigh. "Okay, so you're on demon containment duty." He scratches at the back of his neck, laying out the bare bones of a plan. It's not his usual strategy, but he's already out of his depth here, so what the hell. "I guess I'll work on keeping Cassie and Cecil off your back," he offers. "Or…anyone else we run into. Me and the Kanagawas go back a lot farther than any of us like."

Raziel nods, and in the back of his head Juno recognizes that if the angel could have done this job without his help, he would have gotten around to it weeks ago. As explanations go, it's not exactly satisfying, but all the dots connect.

So how does he still feel like he's missing something?

 

  
Rita calls back again in the middle of the afternoon, about half an hour after Raziel ducks out of the house, claiming he needs to stretch his legs and possibly meaning that he needs to stretch his wings. Juno doesn't begrudge him. They've already established he'll be back. And truth be told his legs are a little on the stiff side, too. It's not exactly hard to go unseen in a place as overcrowded as Hyperion City, but since Rita installed the digital locks a few months back Juno's apartment is probably the securest place in the city not to house a single thing worth stealing.

While he picks idly at a cup of flavorless instant noodles, Rita walks him through her proposed plan. It's lucky that Raziel has a handy pair of wings, because flying is pretty much the only way to approach a floating mansion unseen. Funny enough, most architects don't see it as a valid concern when they're designing the house. After that it's a matter of weaving their way through the house to Croesus' museum wing, while avoiding the family, their security team (admittedly, mostly second cousins), and Cecil's monsters. And that's not even touching how long it's gonna take them to get back out with the mask in tow, assuming Raziel doesn't vanish in a puff of smoke the second he's done his heavenly duty.

Juno furrows his brow at that, but really, it only makes sense. It's not like he was harboring any delusions about the angel sticking around. Maybe a little wishful thinking.

"You okay there, boss?" Rita chimes in, from the screen. "You look like you swallowed something sour."

Standing to attention, Juno sets his mug down on the counter. "They don't make chicken broth like they used to," he offers by way of explanation, and turns his attention to the map Rita's pulled up beside her. There are a lot more hallways than he remembers. "It would take a goddamn miracle to pull this off," he declares. _Too bad we only have one._

Rita nods like she understands completely, then her eyes light up behind her horn-rimmed glasses. She's remembered something. "I hear you can buy those on the internet now," she announces, with glee.

Juno blinks. "Buy what?"

"A miracle!" Rita repeats, her fingers already flying over the keys. "Oh, I remember, it was when I was looking for something on the card you got from that angel! Lots of stuff about ancient monasteries and alien life and magic, but you said only look for things that could _really_ happen, and not just on a stream or something, so I wasn't sure about this one. Here, see!" She pulls up a single post from a forum, with a few dozen hidden threads branching out. "It was from this guy who said his name was Regis Luxe, only I don't think that's his real name, because the only other place I could find it was _adult entertainers_ , you know," she adds, blushing slightly.

"And you say he's selling a miracle?" Juno prods, picking up the noodles again to stir them absentmindedly around the styrofoam cup.

"No, not exactly," Rita continues, decrypting a few of the replying threads. "Looks like he's offering to use it for whatever the highest bidder wants. Says it can do all kinds of impossible stuff, but he's the only one who can handle it." Juno stares. It's got to be the most impossible coincidence he's ever seen. Or not. "People are asking him to do stuff like bring someone back from the dead--oh, that's so sweet, they did that on _Outworlder_ last week--or cure someone of a disease. And this one wants to start a war, that's awful. Mistah Steel, I don't think I could afford this kind of thing, I've never seen so many zeroes lined up like that before. More creds than I'll ever have in my life, no offense, boss--"

But something in the corner of the page has already caught Juno's eye. "Rita," he says, eyes burning. "Zoom in on that."

"Oh, that there? Yeah, it's supposed to be a picture of the miracle thing. Looks kinda silly, don't it? Big glowing ball like that could be anything," she says. "I don't think it's real, Mistah Steel, to tell you the truth. It's too bad, all those people wanting to pay so much for a hoax."

Juno doesn't reply. He's too busy looking at the hand holding the miracle. Long fingers. Thin, black leather gloves.

 

  
Juno hears the door creak open while he's still sitting on the couch, nursing a drink that he knows he shouldn't finish. Pays to be on your guard when you're walking into Casa Kanagawa.

"Well, Detective?" There's a spring in Raziel's step that Juno can't help but envy. "Do we have a plan of action?"

"We'll move on them tonight," he confirms, trying not to look wary as he sidles across the room to drape himself over the cushions beside Juno. He stretches his arms over his head, and sighs languidly. "I've done about all the hiding out and biding my time I can stand."

"Dear Juno, impatient as ever," Raziel says fondly, folding his legs up underneath himself and offering Juno a sharp-edged smile. Mouth like a fox. Bright eyes. Quick hands, quiet feet. In retrospect, it was stupid of Juno to get caught up in a pretty face, and ignore how dangerous he really is. It's a real shame that recognizing that danger doesn't make him any less pretty. "And how are we to wile away the hours until then, mm?"

"Oh, I can think of a few ideas," Juno offers, because he really can. Raziel laughs, and shifts subtly to peel the gloves from his hands. Juno's eyes follow them, searching. Maybe they aren't the same. He can't really be sure, not without a side-by-side comparison. Deep down, though, he knows the truth. "Mind if I make a request?"

Raziel looks delighted. "Ask away!"

"Your wings," Juno says, trying not to let the hollow feeling in his chest leak into his voice. "I want to see them again."

Dark eyes shining, Raziel shifts to his side, searching Juno's face. " _Really_ ," he croons. "Juno, I had no idea you were so interested."

"Shut up, of course you did."

"Mm, yes, I suppose I had an inkling." He catches Juno's chin between his thumb and forefinger, guides their lips together. "Alright." The halo of light around his face surges, and with a sound like a sandstorm his wings appear, inky black and shining with hidden stars. The weight should topple him backwards, or at least unsteady him, but he keeps perfect balance.

Juno reaches out to brush his hand against the feathers, half-expecting to find empty air. But against all odds, they're real, soft and warm and twitching just a little beneath his touch. He brushes his hand down the length of it, fingers rustling the feathers and making the star-spots sway. The whole wing curves and bends, cocooning the two of them together. He catches one of the longest feathers at the tip between his fingers, feeling the soft network of ridges, then turns his attention back to the soft downy feathers closer to his shoulder.

It's a little nervewracking, brushing his rough, scarred hands over something so soft and alive. It's even harder to draw his focus back to the worries that were plaguing him a moment ago, especially with the angel panting in his ear. "Is this...should I..?"

"It's nothing," Raziel says, a little hoarsely. "Only...perhaps I should have warned you, they're quite, uh." The wing twitches back as he brushes his hand along the underside again. "Sensitive," Raziel finishes, his jaw trembling ever so slightly.

"I'm not...hurting you, am I?" Juno pulls his hand away like he's been burned, and Raziel shakes his head.

"No, no." Raziel's tongue darts out to wet his lips. "Quite the opposite, actually."

Oh. _Oh_. Juno's breath catches in his throat, and he reaches out to touch them again, watches the stars dance beneath his fingertips while Raziel shudders, shifting until he's practically in Juno's lap, face pressed into the crook of his neck.

"What does a lady have to do to get a pair of these things?" he asks, brushing his hands down both wings at once. Raziel pauses halfway through sucking a mark into the hollow of his throat, sitting back.

"You want…wings?"

Juno laughs a little tunelessly. "I like my feet on solid ground, thanks," he corrects, then hesitates, jaw pulsing. "Just wondering how a man becomes an angel. Hypothetically."

Brows drawn together in confusion, Raziel tilts his head to the side. "I'm afraid angels are born, Detective, not made. Though you'd look very dashing wielding a flaming sword, I'm sure," he adds.

He wasn't really expecting to hear anything else, of course, but it still makes his heart sink. "Right." Juno reaches for his wings again, straightening a twisted feather and running his thumb along it to smooth it down again. "I thought maybe if I did enough research, and showed up to an ancient monastery in the Centauri system with a fake name, maybe a load of cash, they might give me a job. Show me all the tools of their trade, and so on." The feathers along the top of Raziel's wings start to bristle, and Juno moves his hands to his waist, carefully not meeting his eyes. "Best part is, I'd get access to a range of superweapons so rare that most people don't even know they exist. Could make a killing fencing something like that, if I could find out how."

"Juno--"

"I mean, it worked out pretty well for you, didn't it?" Juno feels cold and brittle and too tired even to summon up real anger. His gaze flickers up to the angel's face, which is carefully blank. "Tell me I'm wrong."

He looks back at Juno for a long moment, perfectly expressionless, glowing like the death of a star. Then he changes.

All the same features are there, but they're arranged in an unfamiliar pattern, chin tilted back, mouth drawn into a thin line, shoulders pulled back from the weight of the wings jutting from his shoulderblades. When he smiles, it's sharper than Raziel's smile was. "Is this the part where I get to hear a monologue about how the brave, clever detective outsmarted me?"

"You've gotten just about everything from me that I'm willing to give," Juno says, heavily. "All I want is an answer. Who are you, really?"

The stranger laughs, and it's not the same as Raziel's, either, too bright and too high. "Oh, I really am an angel. I may not always have held the position, but rest assured the benefits are very real."

"And what about all your titles? Prince of heaven, angel of mysteries--"

"Keeper of secrets," he finishes. "Yes, those I will admit to inventing. But if it's a name you're looking for, Detective, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. I don't give it out. Call it a tool of my trade." His next grin is a more familiar one, because it's smug. "Now, I'm curious: what is it you're hoping to do with all these hypotheses of yours?"

"Stop the Kanagawas. Put their pet demon away. Find someone to blame for whatever it was that happened to Croesus." He shifts, suddenly aware that Raziel is still straddling his lap, which makes it hard to come off appropriately threatening when he says, "Stop you, if I have to."

He laughs again, full-bodied. "I would be delighted to see you try."

"I know you're after the mask," Juno grumbles. "You're using this miracle to keep the demon contained, and the second I turn my back you'll run, and pawn it off onto some other planet full of greedy suckers, and there won't be an angel there to keep them from setting him loose. And you'll be safe in the farthest corner of the galaxy, cashing in your check."

"You really think so little of me, Juno?" He pries Juno's hands from his waist, skin scorching on skin. There's a cold anger in his face. "I may be a thief, but I'm not heartless," he proclaims. "Yes, there is a woman who has offered me an incredible sum of money for the vessel that contains the demon Grimpotheuthis. She's here on Mars, actually, a professor of occult studies in Olympus Mons. But I am of the opinion that the galaxy would be better off if she never receives it. I want that mask destroyed."

When people talk about righteous fury, this is probably what they mean. The light in the angel's face is glowing so bright it hurts to look at, and even when Juno closes his eyes he can still feel the heat on his skin. Raziel's wings are spread wide to either side, huge and dark and imposing, and Juno thinks for a moment he's due for a genuine smiting.

But as well as he can play the avenging angel, Juno knows now he's human as they come. Flawed, at best. Evil, maybe. Trustworthy, not by a long shot. "And how am I supposed to believe that?" he argues, hoarsely. "I don't know the first thing about you. I don't even know your goddamn _name_."

"Peter," the angel spits, his eyes still flashing fire, and then he hesitates, as though he's surprised himself. "My name is Peter."

Juno narrows his eyes, but he doesn't offer anything more, or even a surname, doesn't back down or pull away.

It's not that Juno doesn't believe in anything. He just can't bring himself to trust something just because wants to believe it. But there's something about…Peter that makes Juno want to trust him with anything and everything, something so painfully honest in those bright eyes of his.

He's probably just an idiot. "Okay," he sighs, runs a hand through his hair and gives in. "Fine. Let's save the planet."

 

  
"You wanna take the second door on the left," Rita says, mouth full of something Juno hopes isn't popcorn. 

Peter reaches for the handle, but Juno holds out a hand to stop him. "Did you do the fingers?" he demands, at a low whisper.

Rita scoffs. "I don't need to do the fingers, I know it's…right." She pauses. "Second door on the right."

Kanagawa Mansion at night is nothing like its daytime counterpart. All those cameras lining the halls blinking in standby mode, all those flashbulbs dim and cool. Those crowded hallways still and silent and empty. It's like a shell. Place has always given Juno the creeps, but at least during the daytime you know you're not alone in that big, empty house.

People had a tendency to ask Juno to be somewhere he shouldn't be when they hired him. Nothing new. But this is personal, to a point. This family knows Juno, know all of his (few) triumphs and his (considerably more) failures, and have every reason to want him dead, plus a few extra. And he can't even trust the man beside him.

Raz-- _Peter_ insists on opening every door first, crowding Juno behind him. It's really not necessary, but Juno won't look a laser-proof gift horse in the mouth. They make their way through the levels of the house as quickly as they can, avoiding the paths of the security guards with Rita's slightly inconsistent help. But they're making good time, until--

"This looks familiar," Juno mutters, which means they're getting close, but he can't for the life of him remember which way he turned the last time he came through this wing. Looks too different in the dark, for one thing, and he didn't waste a lot of time sightseeing the other week, either. Too busy trying to outrun Cecil's monsters. "Left or right?"

Rita sucks in a whistling breath through her nose, then exhales on a hum. "Lemme think…right."

Juno crosses over the rug, which has to be an Earth relic, twisting threads of black and white and red, and slides open the right door. In his ear, Rita slows her chewing. "Hang on, is it my right or your right?"

"They're the same direction," Juno sighs.

"Oh, well in that case, you wanna go--"

_Click. Click-click-click-clickwhiiiiiiirrrrr. Click._

"Shit," Juno breathes, about one second before the Cameraman pounces. The impact knocks half the air out of his lungs, and when his back hits the carpet the rest of it is punched out. He scrabbles, comms falling from his hand and disconnecting the call, but after a moment his body refuses to let him keep moving before it gets some air and gives up.

"Juno!" He's staring the damn thing right in the lens, sees the glass light up with the reflection of a flash and throws his head to the side to see Peter wielding a flaming sword. Fancy, the kind they use for duels in old movies, with golden fire racing up the blade almost to the handle. He moves quick, slashing a big hole in the thing's side that makes it reconsider slicing Juno's throat.

It scrambles off his chest, leaving him free to suck in a heaving breath, and tries to back away, but Peter's following it faster. Juno looks away when he hears a telltale gurgle, and pushes himself back to his feet.

There's never just one of the damn things, Juno knows, so he pulls out his blaster and clicks off the safety as quickly as he can manage it. Sure enough, he barely has time to stagger over beside Peter before he hears the clicks getting steadily louder. He takes one out as soon as it appears at the end of the hallway, but the other one is faster, and sneakier, already jumping at the angel's back by the time he turns around.

It hits him claws-first, and bounces right back again, whimpering. Peter whirls on it and brings his sword down. The back of his shirt is torn to shreds, but the skin beneath that is unscathed. Not just laser-proof, then.

"Junebug!" a familiar voice calls, and he curses. Cecil enters through the door Rita was directing them to, a Cameraman flanking him on either side, and a ball of flame in his cybernetic hand. "You're alive! What a pleasant surprise!"

Juno swings the gun up to point between Cecil's vapid eyes, and hesitates. Cecil doesn't. It's lucky his aim is so bad, because when his little magic missile makes contact Juno's whole leg is instantly in agony. He howls, dropping to one knee as the limb gives out, and the Cameramen rush past him again.

"It says in Cassie's contract that she has to kill you, you know. But mine doesn't!" Cecil towers over Juno, then moves back a little so one of the Cameramen can get a better angle on him. "I just have to get you _out of the way_."

Clutching at his thigh, Juno glares up into his stupid, beautiful face. "Oh, good, and here I thought this was just a revenge thing."

Cecil clutches at his chest, his eyes going wide. " _God_ , no, Junebug! That special was the best thing to happen to my ratings in years. I just want to _thank_ you. _From the Jaws of Death_ is going to be a showstopper. Positively breathtaking, ahaha."

Behind him, Peter is locked in struggle with the Cameramen. They can't hurt him, but they move fast, and they're hard to kill. And, Juno can see now, every time he brings the blade of his sword around to deliver a blow, it's caught by an invisible force that sends it off course. Cecil, somehow. Juno's sure of it.

"What do you mean, contract?" he asks, trying to stand and failing when his leg refuses to move an inch. "Is this something Min cooked up?"

Cecil laughs. "Min? Silly Juno, of course not." His eyes glaze over red, and another burst of flame crackles to life in his palm. "It's Daddy's old friend, the one who lives in the mask. He's awfully touchy, but a handy man to have in your corner."

Juno blinks. "So you really are making deals with demons now?"

"Oh, Junebug, not just me. We all are. He can give you anything, anything you want. Money, power, glory, love, beauty. And all it takes is one teensy little sacrifice! Business is booming!"

Between grunts, Juno hears Peter mutter something like 'I told you so', and elects to ignore it. His gaze is zeroed in on the fireball in Cecil's hand, white-hot. He's too close to miss this time.

So this time, Juno doesn't hesitate.

The laser crackles right into the center of Cecil's chest, and he goes limp, slumping sideways onto the carpet beside Juno with a shocked gasp. The fireball extinguishes itself, and Juno falls forward, sinking into the sea of lancing pain.

Without Cecil's interference, Peter's fight with the Cameramen is over in moments, and then he's kneeling beside Juno, gloved hands on his face. "Juno, can you hear me? Are you alright? Can you move?"

Juno nods, then shakes his head, which must communicate enough because Peter gasps and rips off a glove, pressing his palm flat over the blistering burns on Juno's thigh. He watches the skin regrow with a kind of sick, detached fascination. The pain doesn't vanish, but it lessens enough to let him stand, taking Peter's offered arm to rise to his feet. "Uh, thanks," he offers, stepping over Cecil's unconscious body.

"Only doing my job, Detective," Peter says, with a small, kind smile that quickly goes crafty around the edges. "You can swoon into my arms now, if you'd like."

"Shut up," Juno tells him, but they're standing too close, and he can already tell that despite his best efforts, he's dangerously close to falling right back into Peter's orbit. He leans in, out of habit--

From somewhere close by, there's a gunshot, and a familiar scream.

Juno pulls away like he's been burned and makes for the door on the left. It's not quite a run, more of a purposeful amble, stepping carefully over the bodies on the floor, leg throbbing every time he puts his weight on it. The angel is close on his heels, fiery sword still unsheathed. He's got a pretty good idea what they'll find when they stumble into Croesus' museum. He just hopes they aren't too late.

The case that should hold the Ancient Martian mask is wide open. On one side of it is Cassie, swinging her NDPA around like she doesn't care what she blows a hole in. On the other side is Min.

She's got the mask over her head, not quite closed around it because it's shaped for something larger and much less human, but covering her face. Juno only knows it's her because of all the rings glinting on her slender fingers. And he recognizes her sickly-sweet soprano, her words muffled by the mask. And there's only one person alive who can make Cassie that angry.

"Dammit, Min," Cassie screeches, still blind to Juno and Peter's entrance, "You can't do this! I won't let you take this from me!"

This time, it's Min that screams, though Cassie has yet to pull the trigger, folding in on herself and clawing at the mask like she's trying to pry it off. After a moment she does manage it, freeing her head from the monstrous polymer lump and grinning triumphantly. There's blood running down one side of her face, a dark hole where her right eye should be, and she looks like she's just won the goddamn lottery. Cassie howls.

"I'm not taking anything from you, darling!" she croons, waving the mask around tauntingly. "You're free to make a deal if you want, as long as you don't mind paying up." When her step-daughter growls and reaches for the mask, she pulls it away again. "Oh, but wait, I forgot. Grimpotheuthis isn't very _happy_ with you, is he, sweetheart? I wouldn't be surprised if he refused to talk to you."

Cassie pistol-whips her angular hairdo askew and snatches the mask while Min stumbles back. "I got a feeling he's gonna be interested in what I have to say," she says, coldly. "Since he's been begging us to let him out for months now anyway. You hear that, you slimy bastard?" she announces to the mask in her hand. "I'm gonna set you free." She moves to close the mask over her face, like Min had.

"Cassie, don't," Juno warns, and she spins around, NDPA raised. Juno shows her his hands, palm open, and limps closer.

"Juno?" Her eyes light up for the briefest moment, before her features twist into a scowl. "How the hell are you still alive? You fell, I saw you."

"Didn't take," Juno explains. Just a few more feet, and he can grab the mask, throw it to Peter, let him use the miracle to keep anyone else from getting hurt, here. "Guess someone up there is looking out for me."

"You take one more step, and I'll make damn sure it takes," Cassie barks, and he stops with his eyes flickering to the barrel of that NDPA. "Now stay put, you nosy son of a bitch, I got a contract to make."

"Think about this, Cass," Juno pleads, "You really think if you let him out he'll still give you what you want? If this guy goes free, the only one who gets what they want is him. He cheated Croesus, didn't he? He'll cheat you, too."

She's not a sharpshooter, and her hands are shaking now, so Juno feels steady enough to take one step closer. "I just wanna make my movies, Juno," she says, turning to glare at Min. "I'm not gonna let you stop me, and I got nothing else to give."

From behind him, Peter chimes in, concerned, "Juno…"

"I know," he snaps, not looking back. "I'm trying, okay?"

"Who the hell is _that_?" Cassie asks, baring her steel-capped teeth. "He after the mask, too?"

Juno bites down hard on his tongue, turning to glance over his shoulder at the angel. Their eyes meet. And he knows what he has to do. Peter nods, and Juno shuts his eyes tight.

Even through his lids, the flash of light that illuminates the room is blindingly bright. There's a wave of heat, too, like a star has just erupted into being behind him, and Juno half-falls forward as he gropes for the mask. Cass still has one arm over her eyes while he blinks away the last of the sunspots, taken by surprise, so he has no trouble wresting the mask from her grip and sliding it over his own face.

"Juno, what are you doing? Give the mask to me!" Peter cries, but then Juno hears another voice, much closer and much clearer as the rest of the world fades to white noise.

"Come to make a bargain, Juno Steel?"

The speaker is seated at a small wooden desk, scratching at an old-fashioned scroll of paper with a stylus made to look like a feather. He looks like Croesus, a little, but when he tilts his head up to look at Juno his face shifts, imperceptibly, and he looks like Cecil, like Peter, like Sasha, like Juno's mother, like Juno. A pair of small, dark glasses rest on the bridge of his nose. A pair of short, dark horns protrude from his curly golden hair. Juno blinks, but the vision stays put even when his eyes are shut.

The Juno Steel of a few days ago wouldn't have hesitated to put all of this down to day-drinking, turn around, and go home. Juno misses that lucky, ignorant son of a bitch. "This a _three wishes_ deal?" he asks.

Grimpotheuthis stands. "Hardly." He extends a hand, sharp-nailed, with the scroll in it. "You get what you can pay for."

Juno unrolls the paper and squints at it. It's a list, reads a little like a menu, with items all down one side and prices down the other. Immeasurable wealth in exchange for your immortal soul, collection upon death. Eternal love and devotion of the person of your choice, for the bargain price of the death of a loved one. Revenge on your worst enemy will run you all of your memories before you were six. It's a complicated system.

Down at the bottom of the sheet, though, there's the real winner. It's penned in hastily over a blank space. _Fix your mistakes_. Costs a pretty penny, too. "Ah, I thought you might like that option," Grim says, seeing where Juno's gaze lingers. "I don't usually offer it, you know, but in your case I made an exception. The Kanagawas have told me so much about you, you know."

"Yeah, I bet," Juno snorts, but his brain is already moving at a hundred miles an hour, picking over thirty-eight years of screw-ups and coming back with a real persuasive list. Cecil's show pilot. His record worst case. That whole rotten mess that ended his career with the HCPD, and the hundred smaller messes that led up to it. Fuck, what about Annie? What about his _brother_? If life was offering him the chance to undo all the damage he did to those people, wouldn't it be wrong not to take it?

The price is steep, of course. But really, whose word does he have to go on that letting the demon loose is all that bad? Just a man who was planning to pawn the demon off to some occultist anyway. He could choose this, and it could be the right choice.

Or, just maybe, it could send the whole planet up in flames. Juno tosses the scroll back to Grim and heaves a sigh. He'll drink about it later.

"You know what I want? What would make me really happy?" he offers, feeling a little light-headed. "I want you and this mask gone. Out of this city, off this planet, as far from this galaxy as you can get. No more bargains. Nobody else gets hurt."

Grim laughs, and pushes his glasses far enough down his nose to show Juno his eyes, burning red-orange from lid to lid. "That would require a payment few people are willing to make, Detective." One of his clawed hands wraps around Juno's wrist, and he leans in close, smelling like sulfur. "I've waited a long time for my freedom, you know. If you're going to ruin my fun, rest assured I am taking you with me."

Juno winces, tries and fails to pull his arm free, and takes a deep breath. "Yeah, I figured it would be something like that," he mutters. Still, he's come a little too far to reconsider now. He looks the demon dead in his fiery eyes. "Where do I sign?"

Grim glares, tightening his grip, but he reaches down with his other hand to pluck the feather stylus from the desk, offering it up. It's surprisingly heavy in Juno's hand.

The scroll is lying on the desk between them, all items erased but for the agreed-upon terms. _Destruction of the Mask of Grimpotheuthis and banishment of Grimpotheuthis from the material plane_ , it says, in the left column. _Destruction of Juno Steel_ , it says on the right. According to the crash-course in legal documentation he got when he first joined up with the Kanagawas, it all checks out.

Well, if there's only one way to do this, at least it means he can be done with this whole mess for good. No more demons, and no more angels. They're more trouble than they're worth. He touches the pen to the paper, and starts to sign on the line.

"Juno, don't," he hears, suddenly much clearer, and he looks to the left to see Peter materialize, still glowing like a supernova, wings spread and sword in hand. Grim looks over, and his expression sours.

"I'm afraid I'm busy at the moment. Come back later," he spits, digging his claws into Juno's arm until he gasps and continues writing.

Peter unclips his earring, and suddenly the miracle is shining in his fist, bright and round. "I'm not looking for a deal. Let him go, or I will use this."

"Oh, a proper angel." The demon loosens his grip on Juno, but there's a self-assured smile on his face. "What are you going to do, banish me? I'm afraid that deal is already being negotiated. All Juno has to do is finish signing, and neither of us will trouble you any longer."

Peter sheathes his sword and wrenches the contract from the desk, an expression on his face that Juno can't quite read. Maybe he just doesn't want to read it, because it looks a lot like fear, and, well. That opens up a whole new can of worms that a man about to sign away his own life really shouldn't have to deal with. His jaw clenches as he reads it over. "Juno, why--"

"I have to…" he hesitates, guilt roiling in his chest. "It has to be destroyed, okay? And I can't--I can't just hand it over to you and--and _believe_ you'll do what you say you will." He doesn't look at his face, doesn't look at the contract, keeps his eyes on the shadow-figures of Min and Cassie, still arguing over who gets to control the other. Willing to give up anything for the things they want. Like Juno came so close to doing, just a minute ago.

Juno doesn't know a lot about angels, but people he knows well. You have to keep power like this out of their hands. "It's gotta be this way, okay?"

When Peter's eyes do meet his, that familiar sparkle has gone dead. He fastens the miracle back into his ear, movements slow and stiff, and reaches for the feather pen. Grim watches impassively as he scratches out a contract, left hand scrawling over the parchment and smearing the ink as he writes. Those huge, dark wings move to block Juno's vision of the paper, and neither he nor the demon speak. After a moment, Grim grunts, and Peter steps away, and vanishes.

"What did he just--"

"You'd better finish signing, Juno Steel," Grimpotheuthis interrupts, holding out the stylus again. "I'm looking forward to my retirement."

And really, it's not like he's got a choice.

The second he's polished off the line of the last l, the words glow red and vanish. Juno throws down the stylus and raises his chin. "So how does this work? You drag me down to hell, or do I just drop dead right here?"

The demon snorts. "No need. Arrangements have been made." He snaps his fingers, and suddenly Juno is back in the room, clawing the mask off of his face. The polymer cracks and starts to crumble as he pulls it away, twisting with a smell like burning plastic and falling to the floor. Juno staggers away, forgetting the pain in his leg until his knee buckles and he falls back onto his hands.

He narrowly misses Peter, who's propped against the glass display case, looking diminished somehow. It takes Juno a moment to realize exactly why.

"You--" he starts, realizes how desperate he sounds and forces himself to stay calm. "You shouldn't have done that," he says, exhausted and just a little bit furious.

Peter offers him a small, sad smile. "I wouldn't be much of a guardian angel if I hadn't," he argues, which isn't funny at all. Juno limps over to his side, brushes his fingers over the place where wings used to be. "Believe it or not, Juno, I never intended to stay an angel forever."

"You're an idiot," he curses.

"And you're alive," Peter argues, turning to cup Juno's face in his ungloved hands. His skin is cool to the touch, but it still makes Juno's heart race. "I think we're even."

It's infuriating, that all this time he thought Peter was confusing and cryptic and maddening because he was some otherworldly being, when here he is, frail and human and still capable of rendering Juno speechless with confusion. "How does that--"

Cassie's scream jolts him back into the present, and he turns to see her kneeling beside the ashes of the mask, angry tears streaming down her cheeks. "Juno! What the hell did you do!"

"Broke into our home and destroyed a very valuable rare artifact, Cassandra," Min says coldly, from behind her. There's a security guard flanking her on either side, both nieces or second cousins or something. "I would love to hear an explanation for his actions, personally, though I think somehow our lawyers would like to hear it even more."

Juno stands to attention, meeting her eye and releasing a shuddering breath. "That thing was dangerous and we both know it, Min. He had to be stopped before the rest of you ended up like Croesus."

"Croesus got greedy," Min protests.

"Yeah? And how many body parts were you going to give up before you had the rights to everything Cecil and Cass ever make in their lives?"

Min sniffs, and wipes a trail of blood from her cheek. "Well, I suppose it's all the same to me. I've gotten what I asked for, after all."

Still pawing through the ashes, Cassie freezes, and turns to glare at her stepmother with murder in her eyes. "You--"

"Now if you people will excuse me," she finishes, turning away. "I have a show to plan, and a scapegoat to find for my dear late husband's sudden disappearance."

The problem is, they all forgot Cass had that blaster right up until the moment she fires it. "Goddamnit, Juno, you took everything from me!" she howls, smoke pouring from the barrel. The shot's still ringing in Juno's ears, so it takes a minute of prodding at his own chest for his brain to catch up and realize it missed.

"I'd say your mom's got more than enough to do with it," he retorts, watching a security guard wrestle the weapon from Cassie's grip. "But I know that's one fight I'm not gonna win right now." He's about to look to Min for confirmation when he hears a pained groan from over his shoulder, and the dull thud of a body hitting the floor.

"Oh, Cassandra, now look what you've done," Min wheedles, shaking her head in disappointment. "That nice gentleman could have been anyone."

If he doesn't look back it's not real but he does look back, can't help it because he needs to know and Peter's got a hole through his chest that turns Juno's stomach and his eyes are fluttering shut and even when Juno collapses beside him and covers the wound with both hands the blood doesn't stop coming out, and he's frail and human and no longer laser-proof. Would still be laser-proof, if it wasn't for Juno, instead of lying there on the floor in front of the display case, _dying_ \--

"Not your fault," he mumbles, like he can see it in Juno's face. One of his hands comes to rest over Juno's, too cold and too weak.

"Just…just shut up, Peter," he manages, a sob catching in his chest. "Just shut the hell up."

Peter just huffs out a laugh, and says something too soft to hear. Juno leans in closer, till his bloodied lips are pressed against his ear, and hears him whisper, "Nureyev. Peter Nureyev." By way of explanation he slurs, "S'my name."

"Why are you telling me this?" Juno frowns, tries to tug him closer as he goes limp, head falling back. "Damn you, you can't just die," he pleads, carding a hand through his hair, cradling his lanky, long-limbed body as well as he can. He presses their foreheads together, screws his eyes shut, and prays. If he's any kind of angel at all, he'll listen to that.

But Peter Nureyev doesn't answer.

 

  
The Kanagawas have too much on their minds to bother with a dead man and a private detective. They don't give him any trouble on the way out. Even offer him a ride home. Help him carry the…the body, once it becomes clear that Juno's leg isn't gonna support the extra weight. Help him carry it up the stairs to his apartment, lay him out on the couch with his hands all folded over that gaping hole in his chest, like he's just asleep. Juno lies to them, says he's gonna let the guy's family know in the morning, take care of it himself, won't press any charges.

He wonders if Peter Nureyev has family. Resolves never to find out. Gets blind drunk and passes out on the floor beside the couch.

Wakes up at four hours later with one of the worst ideas he's ever had in his entire life.

Rita's called him at least a half a dozen times, probably, but his comms is lying under a piece of furniture somewhere in Casa Kanagawa, so really his only option is just to try it. He reaches up and unhooks the golden stud from Nureyev's ear.

Holding a miracle is…like nothing he's ever felt before. Painful, yes, but so much more than that besides. It's a little like the test shocks they had to give each other in the police academy, with blasters set to stun, because he can feel it in every cell of his body at once. Pure white-hot, limb-locking energy. It probably should kill him, but somehow, maybe because Juno's just a stubborn ass, it doesn't.

Shit, he doesn't even know how to use this thing.

Teeth clattering in his jaw from the force of keeping the thing in his hand, he closes his eyes, throws it hard against the wall, and hopes for the best. Juno Steel may not believe in angels, but he thinks he's seen just about enough of Peter Nureyev to believe in him.

The miracle doesn't shatter, exactly, because the second it makes contact with the wall it turns to liquid, disintegrates into a thousand golden droplets that fly in every direction, glow brightly for a moment, and vanish. There's a moment where Juno feels like he's breathing underwater, and then absolute silence. He waits.

A ragged gasp flies from Peter's lips as his eyes slide open, shining with the light of a thousand stars. Juno moves to hold him down when he makes to sit up like he's been shocked, because the ugly wound in his chest is still struggling to knit itself back together. "Shhh, hold on, stay still," he warns, trying to school his rough voice into something that resembles good beside manner, and hoping he doesn't reek too badly of scotch.

His quick hands fasten themselves to the collar of Juno's shirt. "Juno? You…what? I was--"

Juno's hands send him a belated signal that touching is a no-go, and he lifts his palms from Peter's shoulders to see an angry dark circle branded into the skin there. It feels new, but it looks old, which is about the best you can expect from a burn. "You, uh. Were dead," he explains, words a little awkward in his mouth. "It was my…I was…you shouldn't have died, so I--"

Peter sits up, catching Juno's hands and examining the marks on his skin, then reaching up toward his ear. "You used the miracle," he realizes.

He can't parse out Peter's tone, or the meaning behind the quirk of his eyebrows, so he plays it safe. "I…did," he admits. If he's going to be upset about losing his asset, Juno will gladly remind him exactly how useful it was to him while he was dead.

But Peter only curves his lips into a quiet smile, looking at Juno with a soft expression that makes him feel…well. A lot. "Juno Steel," he breathes. If Juno didn't know how undeserving he is of the word, he'd probably say he looks reverent. "Are you quite sure you're not an angel?"

"Pretty goddamn sure," Juno protests, unsure whether or not he should pull away. "I've had about all I can take of this ethereal shit for a lifetime, I think. No more angels for me."

Peter's eyebrows quirk even higher, and he shifts up far enough to brush his silk-smooth lips against Juno's. "None?" he asks, teasingly.

Juno doesn't move a muscle, staring right at Peter Nureyev, who came back from the dead five minutes ago, who's saved Juno's life more times than he can even count, who lied about who he was and still gave up everything he had to help Juno save the world. Who probably doesn't even recognize that he's offering Juno a goddamn blessing he doesn't deserve, every second he stays here and looks at him with that quick smile and those bright eyes. 

Juno Steel has never really believed in angels. "Maybe one angel," he concedes.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @wastrelwoods and please come to my home and shame me for putting off my english essay to edit and post this


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